


Punk Is Not Dead

by fantasticfrog



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bassist Eren, Gay, Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, Music, Punk Rock, Rating: M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smoking, Sort Of, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), drummer Levi, later mature content, they're all in bands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasticfrog/pseuds/fantasticfrog
Summary: Eren Yaeger and his two childhood friends make up the band Humanity. Their hardcore punk sound rattles bones and assaults eardrums, and their first real gig at the iconic DIY venue The Wall opens up the world of the local music scene, making Eren realize they have only just scratched the surface of their potential. He finds himself suddenly surrounded by the people who gravitate to a place like The Wall: an asshole sound technician, sellouts looking to pick a fight, experimentalists, freaks, burnouts, and the like—but above all, he is entranced by a certain mysterious drummer with raven-black hair and a breakbeat that could tear down walls. Just as a few chords can become a song, so can a shared glance become something so much more...
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

“Holy shit. We’re really doing this.”

Eren Yaeger stood with his two bandmates in the back alley of The Wall. They had filled his shitbox of an old Chevy Blazer with their drum kit, amps, cords and instruments to the point that it greatly impaired any rear visibility that he might have had. Now the car squatted in the alleyway with the trunk open, idling noisily. Eren glanced around their setting and tried to push down his anxiety about what lay on the other side of the double black loading doors. They had no handles on the outside, which gave them a powerfully foreboding quality. There was one other person in the alley with them, a tall man with an undercut who was smoking against the chain-link fence and looking at his phone. God, Eren could use a cigarette.

“So should we knock? Or…” Armin trailed off beside him. The muffled heavy bass of a soundcheck was swimming through the closed doors.

“I mean, they said load-in was at 7. So we’re definitely not early,” Eren’s answer was even more tentative than the question. He felt like he had no idea what he was doing. What were any of them doing? Oh, god, why had he sent in that demo? Why did he think they were good enough to play this show? Why, why, why?

“You guys are being weird.” Mikasa spoke from where she was rooting around in the trunk of the Chevy. “Just knock. Or go around to the front door. I’ll do it if you don’t want to.”

“No! It’s fine. I can do it.” Eren absentmindedly toyed with the lighter in his jacket pocket. “It’s fine.” He approached the monolith of a threshold and banged a fist against the doors. Waited. The low bass playing was still floating out to them in the back. Maybe no one had heard…? He banged again and one of the doors whipped open, narrowly avoiding clipping him in the shoulder. A brown kid with a buzz cut who couldn’t have been much older than Eren stood holding it open.

“Woah, hey! Watch out there, man. Sorry about that. These doors are just fuckin’ heavy. You guys are one of the bands?” The man trained his eyes on Eren who answered with a silent nod. “Cool, cool. I’m Conny, kind of the unofficial gear guy. Well, I’m official, I guess. I mostly just hang around. Anyway, you guys need help loading in or you got it?” Conny sized up Armin and Mikasa, who was already unloading her drums from the Chevy.

“I think we’ll be okay. Thanks, though,” She responded and hefted the massive kick drum from the trunk, starting for the doors.

“Okay, cool. Yeah, I’ll be around if you guys need anything. You can just bring your stuff to the backroom and then set up once these guys are done with their soundcheck.” After one final glance at Eren, Conny turned his attention to violently wedging a doorstop with his foot.

“Shit, Mikasa sure looks like she knows what she’s doing,” Eren muttered to Armin as they sorted out their respective guitar cables on the tailgate.

“Mikasa always looks like that. Probably because she always knows what she’s doing.” Armin said with a small laugh. He was right, after all. There was hardly any instrument that Mikasa wasn’t able to play, and yet she had chosen above everything to be the drummer for Eren’s shitty little band of punkers. Why, he might never understand, but he was certainly grateful. She was an absolute beast on the kit.

Eren slung his bass onto his back and gathered as many cords and cymbal stands as he could into his arms. “Armin, I’m going in. Shit,” he blew a sigh from his lips and headed into the venue. Once he crossed the doorway, he was immediately hit by cold dry air that carried with it the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to clothes. It smelled like every old living room and dank basement he had ever played in. His stomach was still roiling with nerves at the prospect that they would be going on stage–on a real fucking stage–in three hours, but the familiar smell shared by DIY venues everywhere was a small comfort to him. Heading towards the back room he passed Mikasa, who was empty-handed and walking with a purpose that seemed a little extreme for the shuttling of a drum kit. Eren snorted to himself. Drummers always seemed caught up with their gear, like their instrument had secrets beyond anyone else’s comprehension. To be fair, there were so many stands and wingnuts and collapsible, moving parts to Mikasa’s kit that Eren couldn’t understand how she set it up without a hitch every time, not to mention how she played it. Eren had tried out the drums before and found them to be deceptive in their simplicity. Armin had thought he would be great at any instrument that involved physical force, but it turned out that percussion required more coordination than Eren thought humanly possible, so of course, Mikasa was a natural. Eren rolled his eyes and strolled into the back room.

How many times had he wondered what this place looked like? It was a small room, and the walls and low ceilings were completely covered in posters, band stickers, and sharpie graffiti. Eren noticed some choice anarchy symbols and SLAYER SUCKS adorning the nearest wall. Yeah, that checked out. There were a couple of ratty southwestern patterned couches to the left, the seating area complete with folding card tables as side stands. Every wood surface was stained with water rings. A few floor lamps and a green overhead bulb illuminated the whole room, giving it a surreal, intimate quality that reminded him of the late 1970’s basements in Freaks and Geeks. He could certainly fill the role of the burnout. Eren set down his gear and carefully leaned his bass against Mikasa’s kick drum. He had been coming to shows at The Wall since he started playing the bass two years ago, but knowing that he wouldn’t be in the audience tonight made the whole venue seem like a completely different place.

The Wall was a staple, a beacon of the local music scene, and had been Eren’s gateway into the revolutionary world of hardcore–the real shit. He remembered the moment a grinding bassline had first driven itself into his bones, where he had lost himself in the violent, cathartic chaos of the pit for the first time–all on the other side of that concrete wall. The fact that he would be playing here tonight still hadn’t completely settled with him, but he gritted his teeth against the uneasy feeling. No turning back now, anyway. Eren started back to the alley for his second trip, passing Mikasa with more drums and Armin with his guitar and pedalboard.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Eren’s SUV was parked around the corner, all their equipment was sitting in the backroom, and Mikasa and Armin were keeping their bandmate company while he smoked a cigarette. Eren was jittery with nerves. The man who had been out there before was nowhere to be seen. The bassist let out a slow exhale of smoke from between his lips.

“Fuck, you guys.” Eren closed his eyes.

“What?” Armin pressed. Eren just shook his head.

“He’s nervous,” Mikasa declared, giving Eren a once over, “even though there’s no reason for him to be.” He cursed internally. Obviously, she had noticed; he had just hoped she wouldn’t say anything.

“I wouldn’t say there’s no reason,” Eren mumbled.

“Why are you freaking out, Eren? Do you want to go over the setlist again?” Armin, always the problem solver.

“I’m not fucking ‘freaking out,’ okay! Jesus Christ.”

“Well then what are you worried about?”

“Nothing! I’m fucking fine!”

“Whatever, man. I mean, this is pretty insane, but I really think it’ll be fine.” Armin shook out his blond hair.

“Eren.” Mikasa said. He rolled his eyes and took another drag. The shitty Edgefield burned the back of his throat.

“What.” He pulled his beanie lower on his forehead.

“You have been working your ass off for weeks. You sound good. We all do. Don’t try to talk yourself out of this.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. I know you. Eren,” they locked gazes, his green eyes burning against her level, dark grey stare, “don’t underestimate yourself.” He groaned.

“Thank you for the band pep talk, I really needed that.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and he focused on trying to relight his cigarette. Mikasa shrugged.

“I say it because I mean it. You’re your own worst enemy.”

“Give me a fucking break, jeez.” Though dismissive, Eren couldn’t help cracking an exasperated smile. Armin laughed genuinely, and once the guitarist got going it was contagious.

Eren felt a little lighter by the time he finished smoking. Being in a band with his two closest friends certainly wasn’t all smooth sailing, but there was never any conflict on a level that they hadn’t been used to since childhood. They worked well as a unit; they trusted and listened to each other. The dynamic translated to their interpersonal interactions as much as it did to their stage presence. Mikasa was the driving heart, always keeping the rhythm and filling any empty spots in their sound. Eren followed her lead and added undertones that joined melody and rhythm, accenting Armin’s leading riffs that cut through the rest of the sound. And in their music, as in life, Eren did most of the yelling. When they played together, their energies intermingled and formed something that could only come from the three best friends.

They had been sharing beers on the couch in the back room when Conny reappeared and called them on to soundcheck. Mikasa was the first one up, immediately starting to move the many parts of the drum kit onto the stage. Eren slung back his bass and lifted his enormous amplifier up the short steps to the stage, Armin in tow with his own guitar, pedals, and cables. The room was almost unrecognizable without the usual mass of bodies that made up the audience. Nearly empty of people, the space was dark and hollow seeming, lit only by the blue and purple stage lights and the dim glow from the sound station to the side. Sitting at the board, nose in his phone, was the man Eren had seen in the alley earlier. Squinting past the blue lights, the bassist could pick out three other people: one tall girl sitting at the bar that took up one side of the room, looking disgruntled at her phone, and two others in close conversation in a shadowed corner. One of the pair was much shorter than the other, but Eren couldn’t make out their faces. He turned his attention back to setting up. Armin was strumming out dissonant chords as he tested all his pedals and Mikasa was flexing her fingers to warm up. Finally, the sound operator spoke.

“You guys ready to start?” He drawled, sounding bored out of his mind. Eren was already ticked off. “Cool. I’m Jean. Can we start with the kick drum,”

He ran through all the parts of the kit, adjusting the inputs accordingly until Mikasa’s battery echoed through the space. Armin was next, and the blond chugged through a part of one of their songs to get the proper levels.

“Bass, let’s hear it.” Jean called, cutting off Armin’s playing.

What was this guy’s deal? Eren furrowed his brow and played a simple lick, trailing off at the end. “Keep it coming,” Jean yelled with an undercurrent of impatience in his voice. Eren clenched his jaw. It’s not like the horse-faced guy had anywhere else to be. He kept playing, trailed off again after no response, and then got yelled at again. What was this guy’s damage? He definitely wasn’t any older than Eren, and wasn’t much bigger. After the third unnecessary reprimand, Eren snapped under his breath, “Dude, I’m fucking playing.”

“What was that? You say something?”

“Just, uh, could I get some more of myself in the monitor?”

There was a moment of pause. “How’s that.”

“It… uh, sounds the same, actually.”

“Well, you’re already turned up on the monitor, so.”

“So… what?”

“So I can’t give you any more. Can we get vocals, or do you want something else here?”

Eren’s eye nearly twitched. “Fine. Let’s get vocals.”

Jean merely smirked and nodded towards the mic. Eren took a steadying breath to get a goddamn grip and spoke into the microphone as his voice fluttered to life over the PA. “… Check, one, two… check, check, one, two… How’s that?”

“Yeah, could I get it at whatever volume you’re going to be singing?”

Eren faltered. “Uh, the volume I’m going to be singing?”

“Yeah, what’d I say.”

“Are you–okay, fine, but it’s… loud.” Why was he suddenly nervous? If it weren’t for the hushed chatter and occasional laugh from the two people in the corner, the room would seem completely empty.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure I can handle it. Let’s go,”

Eren narrowed his eyes. “Can’t we play a song and you get the level from that?”

“No. Just go.”

“Jesus Christ. Fine.” Eren took a deep breath and bellowed into the mic, “CHECK! ONE! TWO!” The initial screech of feedback gave way just after some incomprehensible exclamation from one of the people in the corner. Everyone in the room had whipped their heads around to stare at Eren. He was grateful that they were backlit and in the dark.

Jean barked a laugh. “You want reverb on that?”

“What’s your fucking problem, man?” Eren stepped away from the microphone and menacingly towards the soundboard.

“Eren! Just chill!” Armin hissed and grabbed the bassist’s forearm to stop him before he really committed. Jean laughed again.

“You guys are good to go. Doors are in twenty. Just leave your shit up there.” With that, the tall boy stood and exited.

Eren seethed as he unplugged his bass and unfolded the written setlist from his pocket. “That guy pisses me off,” he grumbled to no one in particular.

“Could you not make a habit of harassing sound guys?” Armin passed him on the way back to the greenroom.

“Are you fucking kidding? He was harassing me!”

“Just chill out, man.”

“I’m fucking chill!” Eren nearly yelled to the stony faces of Armin and Mikasa, who shared a look. He hated it when they did that. “Jesus, this one night is going to destroy us as a band, isn’t it?” He rubbed his eyes vigorously and Armin laughed.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” the guitarist chuckled.

* * *

The doors were open. Sounds of a gathering crowd slowly rose and there were people milling in and out of the backstage room. Eren stood among the growing audience, nursing his second beer of the night and feeling as restless as ever. Every possible way he could fuck up swarmed his mind. Had he practiced enough? Would his fingers slip in that one bridge? Shit, was he drinking too much? Was he not drinking enough?

He gulped beer from his plastic cup, eyes frantically scanning the room, and it was then that he noticed the two people who had been talking in the corner during their soundcheck. The taller of the pair was a woman with glasses and maroon hair that she wore in a high ponytail. She spoke animatedly to her companion, who upon closer inspection only aroused more questions. The woman blocked most of his view, but Eren managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s face: dark, shadowed eyes set below a surprisingly delicate brow, a jaw that could cut metal, and an impossibly perfect mouth. He was wearing what appeared to be a casual black suit. Just as Eren was thinking he might want a closer look, the man’s steely eyes sliced over his company’s shoulder to directly meet Eren’s gaze. The bassist sucked in a sharp breath and wrenched his line of sight away–anywhere else, anyone else–he wasn’t at a capacity to even begin to think about that discerning look. When he noticed Armin beckoning him towards the green room, he was on his feet and tearing through the crowd. Heavy, grizzled reggae was playing through the PA, slightly overwhelming Eren as he neared the speakers. God, what was into him tonight?

Armin briefly tugged on the sleeve of Eren’s sweatshirt to lead him through the crowd and to the back room. The bassist scanned the space until his jittery gaze found Mikasa, seated on one of the couches and raising her beer in greeting. He made a beeline and practically collapsed on the couch next to her, leg bouncing and fingers drumming against the side of his plastic cup. The between-set music came low and fuzzy through to the green room, and coupled with the much livelier conversation now that the room was fuller, it provided what would have been a nice ambiance if Eren weren’t so fucking on edge.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing an eye with his knuckle. “When are we going on?”

“The last band is on their way,” Mikasa spoke over the rim of her cup. “Should be any minute now,”

“Jesus,” Eren sighed and let his head loll back as he sank into the couch.

“Mm.”

The bassist closed his eyes and began to grind his teeth back and forth, focusing on the working of his muscles and the sensations in his skull instead of the heady feeling of anticipation. It took everything in him to still his restless body, and he was finding it hard to breathe around the fiery knot of anxiety in his stomach. A box of cigarettes was burning a hole in his pocket, and as he fought the pull of the blissful sensory oblivion that nicotine promised, he thought back to the pair of gunmetal grey eyes he had met in the crowd. He couldn’t have begun to explain his curiosity, but something about that stare set him off and he found himself wondering more and more about the man. Despite his height, he had cut a sharp figure in that suit, and something about his demeanor screamed competence and authority. He seemed out of place in the divey grime of the venue, but at the same time it seemed impossible that anyone might challenge his right to occupy the space. How he could stand out and sink into the shadows at the same time, Eren had no idea, and he was disappointed to think he wouldn’t get an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. It was just one more thing to stir his nerves tonight.

Just as he had resolved to treat himself to one more cigarette, an exclamation sounded from across the room. Eren’s eyes snapped open and he saw the arrival of three new people: a lanky, dark-haired, sheepish looking boy, a blond girl with a glare that looked like it could kill, and another boy who, though shorter, was built like a tank and sported a heavy brow. Half of him hoped they were the final band, and the other half hoped to god they weren’t. He turned to see Mikasa’s eyes narrowed over her drink, sizing up the newcomers. The group was met by the brunette, freckled girl who had been alone at the bar earlier, and he heard her bark a gravelly laugh over something before she launched into conversation with her friends.

“That’s gotta be the last band,” Armin said.

“Nice of them to finally show up,” Eren grumbled. “Guess this means we’re starting soon.” He was sorely regretting that he hadn’t had the chance to smoke before their set. As the three of them sat there on the couch, some of the conversation filtered over from across the room.

“… doesn’t matter what time you show up to a gig like this. Plus, we’re basically doing them a favor… that crowd doesn’t want to see some fucking posers try to play garage band…”

Armin stiffened, and a small flame of rage flickered to life in Eren’s sternum. The woman’s dry voice carried across the room… almost as if she wanted them to hear what she was saying.

“… some little blond guy on guitar, and their bassist looks like a total tweaker…”

The flicker burst into a visceral bonfire within Eren. He was halfway to rocketing off the couch when Mikasa’s hand shot out to grab his wrist in a vice-like grip. He fumed, wanting nothing more than to tear into those sons of bitches and show them how much of a tweaker he really was, but looking at Mikasa he could see that she was raging just as acutely as he was. Her eyes darkened with an intense, stormy quality, and she slowly shook her head. Eren was surprised he wasn’t vibrating with all the righteous anger he could feel building in him.

“Eren,” Armin spoke quietly, though he was seething as well, “just ignore it.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Eren hissed. Someone needed to stand up for them.

“They’re just spouting bullshit. It doesn’t matter.”

Suddenly, an oblivious Conny was in their space, ushering them up to begin their set. Eren moved from the backroom as if in a trance, all the rage and anxiety pushing up against him and coalescing into some kind of buzzing numbness; emotional pins and needles. It was a surreal movement up the steps to the stage. He vaguely registered the cheers from the audience–when had this many people showed up?–and found that his body had a will of its own as he picked up his instrument and started plugging in. The music over the PA faded to be replaced with the anticipatory buzzing of cables, the hum of distortion, the certain loud quiet that always preceded a set. Over the chatter of the crowd, Eren heard Mikasa speak his name from her seat on the drum throne. He turned to her.

“I know what you’re feeling right now, Eren,” Her shadowed gaze confirmed her words; Eren saw his own overwhelming anger and nervousness reflected in his friend. “So fuck them and use it.”

He nodded, green eyes blazing. This was it. After months of playing house shows, working their asses off to send in a good tape, practice after practice, they were finally on The Wall’s stage about to play their biggest show yet. Fucking posers my ass, he thought as he felt his rage distill to a finite and lethal point. Eren gripped the microphone with white knuckles and the crowd quieted. He licked his lips.

“We are Humanity.” He exchanged ready looks with his bandmates. “ _ONE TWO THREE FOUR!_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while because I had finals, but it's a long one so I hope you enjoy it... pay close attention to the smoking scene. There's some interesting body language. And fun sexy details throughout the whole thing if you know how to read into em ;)

Mikasa rocketed in like a nuclear bomb and the room immediately erupted with sound. Their music was heavy, distorted, and grimy; a tire being dragged through gravel, a cigarette burning the back of your throat, a late-night fuck in the parking lot. Eren built up a wall of noise with his steady, encompassing bassline, and after a couple of measures a screaming riff from Armin cut through the lower tones of the other instruments to lead the song into its first verse. Each of the three was completely tuned in to the others, aware of every shift the music would take and powering forward with complete trust and synchrony. Eren felt every crash of the cymbals, every rip of the guitar, and every hammer of the bass. When they played, he felt like he wasn’t on the earth anymore, instead swimming through some timeless plane where the only thing that mattered was the noise rumbling through his sternum and the wet heat that hung in the musty air. Time wasn’t consciously passing in seconds or minutes; it was all replaced by the weighty sound of Mikasa’s drumming and Armin’s driving power chords. Eren leaned into the mic in anticipation as his fingers continued to dance over the frets. Here it comes, just like they had been practicing—a second-long lapse in the song, where a low note from Eren’s bass hung in the air and the distorted feedback of Armin’s guitar rang out like a harbinger. They shared an imperceptible nod before it all came crashing back down around them, and Eren practically assaulted the microphone with his voice. He was screaming like it was his last chance to ever scream. He hunched his shoulders as if bracing himself from the words that were being ripped from his own throat.

“ _FALSE PROSPERITY? LIVESTOCK COMPLACENCY?”_

Armin doubled down, shredding a hole through the room that incited the crowd to start furiously moshing with each other. The guitar trailed off and reverberated in its own feedback while Mikasa rolled out a detonating fill before she and Eren effortlessly led into the slow, pounding chorus:

“ _GIVE US—“_ A deafening crash on the cymbals—“ _THE FREEDOM— “_ Mikasa laid into the floor tom and snare—“ _OF DYING—“_ Eren wrenched a chord from the thick bass strings— “ _STARVING_ —“ his throat was on fire— “ _WOLVES!”_

Armin launched into a face-melting solo. Eren and Mikasa kept up a steady supporting barrage, the bassist stepping back from the mic to face the drummer as if in conference onstage. He loved these moments turned away from the audience; it felt just like practice, where they played for no one but themselves, everything except the music falling away until they were just three people creating something together. The feeling was unparalleled. It was as if the low buzzing bass was in conversation with the crisp, wide sound of the drums as Eren and Mikasa played off each other. Their energies intermingled and fed off of one another in a way that would have been unachievable without the intimacy of deep friendship between them. They completely trusted each other, knew how to work together and where to diverge. They held eye contact through the whirlpool of adrenaline and exertion, charged by the enthusiasm of the violently jostling crowd. _They_ were doing that, Eren realized; creating this force of music, driving the crowd to some unforeseeable edge. It was a heady euphoria, and as the three bandmates slowed down in unison to approach the end of their first song, Eren seemed to remember where he was.

All the stress and anger that had preceded their walk on stage was now gone. He channeled it into the music, used it to dig deep and open the proverbial basement door for his performance to claw its way out of him. Playing with Armin and Mikasa felt like the closest he would ever get to true catharsis. Eren wasn’t a different person on stage, though it seemed like it; it was just the only place he felt like he could be free from his inhibitions, and he took full advantage of these moments of release. So, with that, their first song ended, and the fuzz from the amps was quickly drowned out by the cheering crowd. He was already drenched in sweat and could guess there was a dark spot spreading across the back of his army green A.C.A.B. t-shirt. Eren took advantage of the brief lapse between songs to catch his breath and take a long, quenching drink of beer.

Armin approached the microphone and began his spiel, thanking the audience and the venue, telling some lighthearted anecdote. Eren squinted into the crowd. The place was packed, more so than he had expected. Were all these people here to see the second band, those assholes? There was no way. Maybe the third act of the night, a band Eren had heard nothing about other than that they were somewhat of a regular at The Wall. He continued to absentmindedly scan the crowd until his eyes abruptly landed on two now recognizable figures. There, in the dark niche to the side of the stage, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was the black-haired man whose eyes Eren had met in the crowd. And now that sharp gaze was intently trained on him. The sudden, acute attention sent a sudden shiver up Eren’s spine. Though the man’s expression was wholly impassive, some glint in that stare made Eren feel as though he was being undressed and rebuilt—studied, analyzed, deciphered. Despite this intensity, he did not look away. He wiped lingering droplets of beer and the tangible salt of sweat from his mouth with the back of his hand. God, it was hot in here. The man’s chin hitched up almost imperceptibly and some new feeling burned in his eyes. Eren didn’t take the time to dwell on the stranger’s actions, instead turning back to Armin and Mikasa, though he kept the imperious figure in his periphery.

The next song began with a solitary, demanding bassline. Eren knew the motions so well that his hands practically acted of their own accord. His fingers pulled raw at the thick strings, eliciting deep reverberations that rang through the thick air of the venue. He quickened his pace. Already the crowd was jostling, warming up for a thrasher—and boy, was he about to give them one. Mikasa joined in with a rattling hi-hat. The song built, just the two of them, pressurizing and condensing to a point of brutal tension until Armin screamed in with a wired lick that opened the floodgates and hell broke loose. Moshing erupted in the audience, reflected on stage by the three band members. Mikasa was a flurry of limbs beating out polyrhythms on every part of the kit. Armin’s blond hair was shaggy, some plastered sweaty to his forehead, most swinging in front of his eyes as his head bobbed up and down with the song. Eren was all the while aware of the steely eyes that were practically igniting him with their intensity. Although the man, not to mention his attention, was domineering, Eren felt no threat or aggression from this scrutiny; instead, it was as if some unspoken challenge had been issued. And Eren couldn’t _begin_ to decipher that, so he threw himself into the set.

They tore through song after song, his voice growing rawer as they went, and the crowd was eating it up. By the time they reached the end of their set the three were drenched in sweat, legs weak and lungs burning, but still run through with adrenaline. Eren breathlessly spoke some parting words over the cheering of the crowd, and it seemed that as quickly as they had been shunted onstage they were unplugging their instruments and departing. 

Whatever spell had possessed him when he was playing was wearing off, and Eren’s surroundings seemed to return to him. He looked at his bandmates in a daze, but one glimpse of Armin’s beaming expression was enough to make Eren break out in an equally triumphant grin. Even Mikasa, so often stony-faced, was smiling. They just couldn’t help it; the mixture of relief, satisfaction, and raw catharsis was intoxicating. Elation burned through each band member while they packed up their instruments for the first trip of shuttling equipment off the stage. It was a flurry of movement once they reached the ground and started to make their way through the throng, enthusiastic echoes of “great set” coming at them from all directions. Eren and his bandmates felt radiant in the face of the praise. Even Conny, who had been hanging by the soundboard for the entirety of their set, made his way through to the backroom to offer his congratulations.

“Holy shit!” The roadie actually clapped Eren on the back, “You guys sounded fucking great. Dude, your _shredding!_ Came out of nowhere!” It wasn’t long before Conny’s attention was entirely on Armin. Eren and Mikasa shared a look over their guitarist’s shoulders as they set their instruments down in the crowded greenroom. Armin’s skills on lead guitar often landed him significant praise after shows, but Eren and Mikasa were far from upset about it. The bassist and drummer tended to prefer the edge of the spotlight over the center. Eren’s singing drew plenty of attention to him, of course, but Armin’s riffs were the flashiest part of their ensemble. Fortunately, the guitarist had an endearing nature and a real way with people, so it was only fitting that he had to do the networking.

Eren followed Mikasa back out to the front room to help her disassemble the drum kit. The between-set music was yet again grinding its way through the PA system and out into the crowded audience, and dim house lights were up, illuminating the room in a faint yellow haze. Eren noticed that Jean, the sound technician, was nowhere to be seen, though there was now a tall blonde man by the board who seemed to be delegating to a handful of others. Glancing around as nonchalantly as possible, Eren searched for the short figure and his companion who had been watching their show only to find that they had vacated their spot near the stage and didn’t seem to be anywhere in the crowd. Why was he so curious, anyway? Had it really taken nothing more than some eye contact for that man to worm a way into Eren’s thoughts? The bassist shook his head and hoisted the kick drum off the floor, making his way to the back room with Mikasa not far behind. The hardest part of the night was now behind them and Eren was looking forward to kicking back for the rest of the show, splitting some beers with his bandmates, and getting paid.

It only took a couple more trips to collapse the drums and move them to the backroom, and they achieved it with minimal contact from the second band, who seemed to want nothing to do with anyone other than themselves. Eren wasn’t itching for a fight tonight any more than he normally was, but he would give one to them if they made a wrong move. Insulting his band, his _friends_ , was one place where he drew a hard line, and the tall brunette girl’s insult to Armin earlier had been enough to get Eren out of his seat. If it weren’t for Mikasa he most likely would have found himself on the ground outside, getting demolished four-to-one. He snorted to himself. Yet another reason to keep the drummer around. She and Armin had undeniably become his rocks over the years, a perfect balance to his own volatile personality. It was the reason they worked, both as friends and as a band.

As if summoned by Eren’s wandering thoughts, Armin finally broke away from the conversation he had been roped into and made his way over to his bandmates standing by their pile of gear.

“So, Armin,” Eren began with a crooked smile, “how does it feel to have made it big?”

The blond laughed sheepishly. “You’re so full of it, Yeager. They were just saying we sounded good, which we fucking _did!_ ” Armin broke out in a wide grin and leaned in to embrace Eren and Mikasa in a half-hug. “Like, wow, you guys. That was awesome. I think we might even have a couple other gigs lined up, if we—”

Just as he had begun, he was abruptly cut off by a conspicuous gasp from beside them. Eren whipped his head around and blanched at the source. There, her hands clasped in apparent glee, stood the bespectacled woman from earlier. Her dark red hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her eyes shone in admiration, trained on the amassment of Humanity’s equipment. And there, standing just behind her, was the raven-haired man who it seemed was intent on haunting Eren. His arms were crossed and his expression communicated a transcendent boredom as he surveyed the amplifiers and disassembled drum kit. His eyes slid languidly over the gear and then, as if he had all the time in the world, across to Eren. The bassist swallowed. Before anyone could react, the woman began speaking in a reverent tone, her eyes locked on Armin’s amplifier.

“Look, Levi… It’s exactly what I thought… a Roland KC-550… four mixing channels, an internal subwoofer, a stereo outlink for chaining amps…” Her attention snapped to Armin, expression frenzied and pleading. “You gotta tell me, how’s the tonal adjustment? Do you feed your pedals through different channels?”

Armin stuttered, taken by surprise. “I, uh—”

“God, just imagine my synths coming through this baby… what I would do to get my hands on one of these, huh? The EQ capabilities alone—”

“Hanji,” her companion clapped a grounding hand down on her shoulder, “get a fucking grip.”

It was the most attention he had brought to himself all night, though just the simple words and action stirred something in Eren. The man’s voice was cold, clear water over river stones, but it cut like a knife through the hubbub of the greenroom. Hand still on his friend’s shoulder, he took a step forward, inserting himself into the space like there had been a vacancy tailored to him all along. His calculating gaze brushed over Armin and Mikasa but lingered briefly, almost imperceptibly, on Eren.

“Name’s Levi,” he spoke coolly, “and this piece of work is Hanji.”

“Hey, now, Levi, there’s no need for that talk. Can’t a girl appreciate a fine piece of musical equipment with a fellow enthusiast?” She beamed at Armin, who smiled nervously in return. “I didn’t peg you for a gearhead when I saw you guys go up, but _wow_ , you know how to get a good sound out of this thing. So listen, me and my friend here are the last band of the night, and I have to ask—can I use your amp?” Levi closed his eyes in exasperation, and Eren could have sworn he caught a _Jesus fucking Christ_ from under the man’s breath. Hanji continued unperturbed. “I would have brought my own, of course, but I kind of blew it out the other day during practice! Ha!” She barked a hearty laugh. “What can I say, I’m a bit of an experimentalist. There’s nothing for you to worry about, though! I’ll take good care of your baby, promise, if you’ll just let me…”

“Hanji,” Levi warned. She rolled her eyes and shook her hand dismissively at him.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Levi, since you’re an acoustic purist,” the redhead abruptly turned to Mikasa as if in conspiracy. “He won’t even let me use electronic drum samples. Isn’t that cruel?”

_“Hanji,”_ his nostrils flared, and Eren fought the urge to smirk. Was this guy getting embarrassed? He had been the face of composure in every instance of the night up until now, and Eren found himself wondering what a lapse in that control would look like. It was a thought he would keep to himself, though, since there was no explanation for why the man was so intriguing to him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, with an aura of authority that made Eren want to push and see how far he could really keep it up. This was no new feeling; the bassist had always seen positions of power as arbitrary constructs, designed to keep people in some rigid line that they couldn’t even set for themselves. His philosophy had gotten him into plenty of trouble, with everyone from teachers to sound technicians to cops. It was by far worst with police, but he couldn’t help it—there was no way he would ever see the pigs in any other light. And after all, weren’t rules made to be broken?

There was something about Levi that was different from those other instances, though, and Eren struggled to put his finger on it. Whatever it was made him think that the man’s self-possession could have some real foundation. Maybe that was why he was so intriguing. Eren wondered what could be behind that conviction.

A lapse in Hanji’s pleading brought Eren back down to earth, and he exchanged an incredulous look with Armin. The guitarist shrugged minutely and sent another nervous smile towards Hanji.

“I mean, if you’re not going to totally fuck it up—that is, uh, I mean—sure you can use my amp, as long as you don’t… you know… it’s my only one,” the blond sifted a hand through his hair. Hanji practically squealed in delight.

“Trust me, I know how to handle her. I would _never_ make a wrong move with such a beautiful piece of equipment. God, I have to ask you…” It seemed that once she started, the woman couldn’t be stopped.

Eren tuned out the conversation and registered that the second band was going on. Their sound was slightly muffled from the greenroom, but the words “ _We are The Titans!”_ filtered through loud and clear, quickly followed by the clicking of sticks and the beginnings of a song. Just hearing them play was already setting him off. Grinding his teeth, Eren adjusted the cuff of his beanie and absentmindedly started to crack his knuckles. Listening to this band was doing a great job of dredging up everything he had overheard just an hour ago, and he was hoping to avoid the aggression he knew those thoughts would conjure. Not wanting to worry Mikasa, he excused himself subtly, mumbling that he was going outside for a smoke, and disengaged from the group without a backward glance.

Pushing through the heavy door and out into the alley, Eren was greeted by cool, refreshing night air. The scent of cigarettes was heavy on the breeze and fuzzy music could still be faintly heard coming from inside, but the setting was tranquil enough that Eren could get a hold on the riot bubbling in him. In the few hours they had been at The Wall, he had been jerked around, riled up, settled down, thrown into a twisted traffic of emotions he didn’t even understand—it was whiplash, to say the very least. Finally, here he was, with the cigarette he had been jonesing for all night and the company of the few other smokers in the alley. He drew a stick from his crumpled pack of Edgefields and held it between his lips. The lighter sparked fruitlessly a few times before producing its candle-like flame, and Eren lit the end of his cig and took a long drag. He closed his eyes as the head rush of nicotine descended over him like a warm wave. It took all the tension from his body and mind, even if for a few fleeting seconds, so that when he opened his eyes and saw that Levi had followed him out into the alley he managed not to explode in a fit of coughing.

Levi nodded a wordless greeting. Eren returned the gesture, somewhat dazed by the heady combination of the other’s presence and the brief high he was coming down from. Levi seemed to be averting his eyes from Eren, and it was a good thing, since the bassist could do nothing more than lean against the chain-link fence and stare. The buttery yellow glow of a streetlamp was playing games with the planes of the shorter man’s face, accentuating his cheekbones and carving out the shadows beneath his jaw. He dragged slender fingers through his hair, shockingly pale against the inky black, though the movement did nothing to keep the tresses from falling right back over his eyes. He began patting his pockets in search of something, then swore quietly when it seemed he couldn’t find it. A moment of pause, in which Eren sat dumbly transfixed. Then Levi’s eyes snapped up and locked onto Eren’s, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head.

“Got a smoke?”

Eren was momentarily struck dumb—was he talking to _him?_ —but quickly recovered, scrambling in his pocket for the pack. He tossed the cigarettes to Levi, who deftly caught them in one hand. He looked down at the box and raised a reproving brow.

“Edgefields? Really?”

Eren shrugged. “I was broke,” he said simply.

“Well. At least you still have your dignity,” Levi scoffed and lifted a cigarette from the box, holding it delicately between his forefinger and thumb. He looked at Eren lazily, expectantly. The brunette again drew a blank before realizing his intentions, then rushed forward to offer a light. He stuffed his own cigarette in his mouth and cupped his free hand around the lighter. It again took a few tries, and Eren’s callused thumb was slightly numb from the chilly night air, but eventually the spark became a small flame that illuminated Levi’s face in warm orange light. The bassist glanced up and almost jumped when he found those gunmetal eyes tearing into him.

“Thanks,” Levi said, smoke rolling from his nose and out into the cold. Eren nodded stiffly and withdrew to lean on the fence.

_Fuck._

He took a harsh pull of his own cigarette. Brushed some fallen ash from his pants. Exhaled and looked up to watch his breath coil and dissipate against the starless sky. Unfortunately, any sense of peace seemed to have fled the moment Levi had stepped into the alley. Eren opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the other man beat him to it.

“Not as bad as I thought.” Levi flicked ash onto the pavement.

“Hah. Thanks, I guess,” Eren inhaled. “It’s all about the low standards.”

“Hm.” The shorter man took another drag.

“What do you usually smoke?”

“Blacks.”

“American Spirits?”

Levi shook his head. “Marlboro.” Smoke billowed from his mouth.

“Fuck. Harsh.”

“Hm,” he repeated. After a pause, he looked at Eren. “Been a while since I smoked, though.”

“Yeah? Did you quit?”

Levi gave Eren a once-over and faced forward again. “Something like that.”

“Hm.” It was Eren’s turn to try the aloof act. They stood for a few more moments in silence before Levi spoke again.

“Good show, by the way.”

“Shit, just good?” Eren smiled at his own joke, but faltered when he glanced over and saw Levi’s intent stare trained on him. “Sorry, I—thanks.” He adjusted his beanie and looked away again. “That was kind of our first real show, so I’m glad we didn’t totally fuck it up.”

“Far from it,” Levi stated. Eren blinked in surprise at the unsolicited compliments. “What were you doing before? House shows?”

“Uh, yeah, mostly,”

“But you wanted something more.”  
  


“Well. There are only so many basements.” He cracked another discreet grin around his cigarette.

“Hm. True,” Levi drew a long inhale and a longer exhale. “So, what, you’re going to try to book more shows here?”

“I mean, I’m not quitting my day job anytime soon, but yeah. If we can,” Eren’s cigarette was over halfway gone, and for some reason, he was not looking forward to the end of it.

“Hm. Day job. I hope it’s fulfilling,” The other man’s tone oozed sarcasm, which Eren matched evenly with his reply.

“My real passion does lie in foodservice. Armin and Mikasa can tell you that much,” Eren quickly looked over and added, “my bandmates.” Levi nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. Something about his direct attention made Eren’s legs go weak. _Get a grip, Yeager._ “But it’s not that bad.”

“Where do you work? If you don’t mind my asking,” the end of Levi’s cigarette glowed orange as he took a pull.

“Shiganshina Deli. It’s downtown, so we get all the yuppies who think they’re hipsters in there.” Edgefield burned down to the filter, Eren dropped the butt and crushed it under his ratty sneaker. “Come by some time and I’ll make you a sandwich.” He pushed away from the fence with his shoulders and spat as he started towards the double black doors.

“That’s disgusting,” Levi said from behind him. Eren turned as the other man smothered his unfinished cigarette.

“Excuse me?”

“Spitting. It’s filthy,” Levi tucked the butt into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and walked right past Eren to the propped-open loading door. He kicked away the cinderblock holding it ajar and turned back to the bassist, who was frozen in the middle of the alley. “You coming?” The raven-haired man drawled. Eren blinked out of his stupor and grumbled out a yes. His ears were burning from the sudden reproach.

Levi held the door for him, and as he brushed past the shorter man he could have sworn he saw a smirk flash in his periphery. But when he whipped around to do a double take, he was met with a gaze as imperious as ever, one thin eyebrow raised.

“Thanks for the cigarette.” Something mysterious but lively danced in Levi’s eyes.

“Sure. Any time.” Eren swallowed, then turned to make his way back to the greenroom.

Armin and Mikasa were still talking with Hanji, though they now all held beers, and the bright, distorted sound of The Titans continued to hammer through the concrete wall between the front and back rooms. Eren snuck a covert glance over his shoulder at Levi. The man narrowed his eyes and looked right back at him.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Levi and Hanji's band sound like??? Stay tuned to find out. And pls comment if you liked this chapter!! More soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO this one long as hell. Merry Christmas. I have treats for you all in the end notes so definitely give it a look! Hope you enjoy......

Eren was restless.

The bassist had been counting on his smoke session to quell the tension that the night’s events had built in him, but Levi’s impromptu appearance had only set him more on edge. The man in question was now lost among the crowd getting a drink for Hanji, who had somehow inserted herself into their group through sheer force of charisma. Not that any of them minded, since she was undeniably friendly and exuded a contagious sense of enthusiasm.

So there they all were, Eren sandwiched between Armin and Mikasa to the side of the stage with Hanji directly behind him. The crowd was lively enough, but there was something… off about the second band that was hard to put a finger on. It wasn’t that they were bad musicians, necessarily, but their songs seemed hollow and contrived, like they had been written just to sound good. And their lyrics were absolute shit. Eren knew posers when he saw them, and this band of four was plastered with signs of insincerity. The blond tank on lead guitar was trying to lead the crowd when he should be working with them, and their bassist—the shit-talker from earlier—was giving sole attention to one single audience member; a tiny blond girl standing eagerly at the very front. Their treble was too high, their guitars were too expensive, and their drummer was barely breaking a sweat. Never a good sign. Eren had resorted to consuming beer at an alarming rate just to get through it, and now he was slightly buzzed and beginning to check out, the hot air and low light enveloping him like a blanket.

“These guys fucking suck.”

Eren jumped at Levi’s voice just over his shoulder. The man moved like a goddamn bishop over a chessboard, always cutting his way into space when you least expected it. It was unnerving, but sent a slight thrill through Eren all the same.

The bassist looked behind him and sure enough there the raven stood, arms crossed and handsome face positively radiating apathy. His eyes flickered from the stage to Eren.

“They’re assholes to boot, so I’m not really surprised.” Eren responded. He had to lean in and yell for Levi to hear him over the loud music, a strangely intimate exchange despite the public setting. The shorter man raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh?”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real shit-talkers, and they were fucking loud about it too. Plus,” he angled more toward Levi, who inclined his head in order to hear better, “their guitarist has been giving me looks all night.”

“I noticed. Seems like maybe you were more than he bargained for.”

“Yeah, well I feel like decking him in the fucking face.” Eren gritted out. Then Levi’s words really reached him—what did he mean _he noticed?_ The shorter man snorted.

“Don’t start any messes you can’t clean up,” He warned. His tone, suddenly dark and dry, sent a jolt through Eren.

“I don’t know, I’m a hell of a scrapper,” He cracked a crooked smile over the rim of his beer as he took another sip. The corner of Levi’s mouth twitched up.

“Now that’s something I’d like to see,” Amusement glittered in his voice. Eren laughed.

“If this guy does a good enough job of pissing me off then you just might.”

“ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT THIS BAND?” Hanji yelled, bringing Eren abruptly out of the world that he seemed to fall into when he talked to Levi. It was then that he realized how close they had leaned in to hear each other. Levi’s body language was oriented towards him entirely, though it was only now that he noticed he had been commanding the man’s full, intense attention. A furious blush erupted on Eren’s cheeks, and he was thankful for the sudden interruption of the other person. Levi, on the other hand, let his exasperation show.

“We _were_ ,” he said shortly.

“TOTALLY OVERPRODUCED, IF YOU ASK ME,” Hanji continued to project over the noise. Eren nodded in agreement and gulped down more beer to try to lower his heart rate.

“YOUR NAME’S EREN, RIGHT? YOU SOUNDED GREAT UP THERE!”

“Hanji, please lower your fucking voice,” Levi hissed. The Titans’ song was finally ending and the music gave way to the cheering of the crowd. Eren took a steadying breath. There couldn’t be more than a few songs left, right?

“Aren’t you guys on next?” Armin piped up from beside him. Hanji broke into a wicked grin.

“You bet your ass we are, and we know how to give the kids a good show,” she winked at Eren, then slightly narrowed her eyes at the band on stage, “unlike these posers.” It made him smile.

“That’s what I’m saying. Total sellouts.”

He found that Hanji’s charisma and honest friendliness relaxed him. She was easy to talk to, whereas her bandmate… well, if Eren thought about it, Levi was easy to talk to as well. Incredibly easy, actually, despite how much their interactions made Eren analyze every one of his own words and actions. He almost got the feeling that Levi was testing him out, seeing what subtle secrets he might be able to coax out with innocent conversation. He had already gotten Eren to tell him where he worked. The bassist hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

“So you do pretty experimental stuff, right?” Armin looked between Hanji and Levi. Clearly, while Eren had been out smoking, his bandmates had been doing some conversing of their own, and it was seeming more and more that Hanji and Levi were people he would very much like to know. The former’s mischievous grin returned to her face.

“Experimental, that’s one way to put it. I just find it fascinating how the human mind interprets sound… what is music, after all? Where is the line between noise and a song? Is there even a line at all?” Hanji’s eyes shone as she spoke, though her far-out ministrations were quickly contrasted by Levi’s realism. The shorter man snorted.

“Sure there is. You cross it all the time.” He addressed Eren when he said, “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s an insatiable freak of the worst kind. If you get her going, she just won’t shut up.” The bassist laughed.

“You seem to have some creative differences,” he said, looking between the two. They had such different demeanors that he was surprised they had been playing together for so long. Levi sighed, perhaps a little overdramatically.

“Yeah, well, I’m basically being dragged along for the ride at this point. How long has it been, four years?” The raven turned his attention back to Hanji, leaving Eren feeling slightly bereft. Jesus, he needed to pull it together. He couldn’t tell if the alcohol was helping or hindering him, but he kept drinking anyway.

“Mmhmm, and tell me, Levi, in all that time, have I ever led you astray?”

“Depends on your perspective,” he grumbled. Eren laughed again and discovered that he had drained his beer. _Damn_.

“Gonna go get another, anyone want anything?” He looked to Armin, who shook his head, and Mikasa, who held up her own unfinished bottle in response. “Wow… yet another long night of drinking alone,” he said sarcastically before raising his eyebrows questioningly at Hanji and Levi, who both politely declined. “Shit, really? But you guys have been so nice to us all night! Let me at least get you a beer. You sure?” His eyes rested on Levi, who shook his head.

“I don’t drink. Though you seem to be pulling enough weight for all of us,” he spoke with slight disdain, eyes flickering down to Eren’s third—or was it fourth?—empty cup of the night. The bassist scoffed and rolled his eyes, unfazed by the comment.

“Okay, whatever, Mr. Straight-edge. I’ll be right back,” he extracted himself from their small group and caught Levi’s eyes narrowing at him in passing. He could feel that gaze follow him through the crowd, burning into him and making his face heat up.

God, Eren couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so aware of how someone else was perceiving him. Levi commanded so much attention himself without even trying, so that when he gave the smallest amount to anyone else it seemed all the more potent. Eren scrubbed a hand over his face. It was pretty clear to him where this was going, and he dreaded even admitting it to himself. So yeah, he was interested in the guy. Who wouldn’t be? He existed so effortlessly in his body and space, as if he knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted out of any situation. Eren recognized that he had a bad habit for romanticizing, and maybe it was just the thrill of playing a show that he had been daydreaming about for months, but Levi’s cocksure attitude and self-possession had grabbed Eren hook, line, and sinker. The man was a mystery that he was itching to uncover. Not to mention he had a real thing for guys shorter than him. _Fucking hell_. He felt like he was in high school again, and it was a slippery slope from there. Well, if Levi was already as out of his league as he figured, he doubted that flirting would actually lead anywhere. So at least he could have some fun with the situation.

In the time he stood at the bar waiting to be served, The Titans concluded their set with one last unremarkable song. _Fucking finally_. Though he had undeniably tuned out as much of their show as possible, just its playing in the background had been bad enough to set him on edge. He watched the band offload their equipment from the stage, and soon enough Hanji appeared and began to shuttle up her own gear. Eren raised his eyebrows as he watched her keep disappearing and reappearing, each time with different instruments. Whenever he thought it would be the last one, she returned with another piece of equipment, so that by the time she finished there were two synths, a keyboard, a bass, a guitar, and a _theremin_ of all things on the stage. God, was she going to play all of those? Eren found himself eager to see what this show would be like.

That was, of course, when Levi appeared, deftly carrying a massive kick drum in his arms. Eren’s heart seemed to speed up. It was so obvious that Levi was the drummer—who else would be?—but for some reason the fact just hadn’t occurred to him. Seeing the evidence, though, it made perfect sense. Drummers stuck to the back, stayed out of the spotlight, but held near complete control of the music in their hands. Levi had teasingly accused Hanji of steamrolling the creative process earlier, but Eren would bet that he was no bystander to the making of their music. The thought that the man had downplayed his influence was honestly endearing… and Eren almost groaned out loud at his own idealizing. He didn’t even _know_ Levi, and already he was starting to think like a goddamn groupie.

It took a few more minutes, but Eren eventually got his beer refilled and pushed his way through the sweaty crowd back to Armin and Mikasa. The two had migrated much closer to the stage to get a good view of the band and their setup. All three carried on an easy conversation, their voices adding to the chatter that filled the space, though Eren kept a surreptitious watch on the stage as Levi continued to bring out the many parts of the drum set. He carried four bulky cymbal stands like they were nothing. At one point, Hanji tried to help him set up some part of the kit and he actually slapped her hand away and seemingly began to lecture her. Eren hid his snicker as the two started arguing until Hanji finally relented. Clearly, Levi didn’t like anyone touching his drums. Soon enough, every cord was plugged in to Hanji’s huge mass of pedals and the amps buzzed to life. Levi sat at the kit, twirling a drumstick in his fingers and looking as unaffected as ever. The between set-music faded, the lights dimmed, and Hanji grasped the mic in one hand.

“Good evening to every member of this lovely audience.” The mic reverberated her normal voice, low and slightly husky. “How’s everyone doing tonight? Good?” Raucous whoops and hollers rose from the audience. “I want to thank the other bands who played tonight! And, hey, let’s hear some noise for Humanity, right? First show at The Wall!” More cheers and clapping ensued. A few people in the audience around the three even gave them personal applause. Eren felt himself blush, suddenly humble and flustered in the face of the direct praise, and his heart swelled for Hanji. “We are Wings of Freedom; we’ve got The Captain on the drums, I’m Hanji Zoe, and this first one is called ‘Normal Music.’ Let’s go.”

Eren had almost laughed at Hanji’s stage name for Levi. He wondered if it was something the drummer had actually agreed to or not. The crowd’s noise died down as the music began.

Hanji started out with a low, pulsating note on the keyboard. Heavy bass undulated in and out, sending vibrations from the speakers that Eren felt deep in his chest. She stood there with one finger holding down the key, eyes closed and rocking back and forth slightly in what looked like some meditative state. The single sound alone effectively created an intimate ambiance in the room. Just when it seemed to go on for a little _too_ long, she added another higher note, though the pulsation of the sound was at a different rhythm than the first. Together the two created a slightly uneasy interaction of swells and valleys, and Hanji let this go on while she bent down to adjust the settings on some pedals. She then rose slowly, nodding her head to a beat that Eren couldn’t hear, and turned to one of the synthesizers. A long, high, whiny note spilled through the speakers, followed by more in successive tones; their fades and melodic changes overlapping with no apparent rhythm to create a shapeless soundscape of electronic noise. And then, without warning, an apreggiator came in. Modulating, melodic synth notes spanning octaves radiated from the speakers, their sharp attack adding a rhythmic element over the dissonant background. The collective power of the sound was already shaking the room, but Hanji turned to the second synth and continued to build it up with more interjections of muddy analog fuzz. Eren now saw that many of her pedals were loopers, making Hanji a complete powerhouse on her own. The song continued like this, chords changing and new harmonies sprouting from the keys before Hanji stepped away from the synthesizers and picked her guitar from its stand. She turned to face Levi. They shared three rhythmic nods to count in—

Eren almost choked on his drink. Levi’s drumming was a detonation. He had erupted into action like lightning, a flurry of limbs that seemed to be hitting every part of the kit impossibly fast and all at once. Eren’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the drummer’s movements, but his playing filled up every edge of the room as he crashed cymbals and rattled across the snare in a steady barrage. If it had been the drums alone, it might have sounded completely without substance, but he hit accents and doubled down on the breakbeat in perfect time with Hanji’s guitar. She was playing wired, sharp notes that demanded attention, but Eren couldn’t tear his eyes from Levi. The man was an absolute machine. He had only ever seen that kind of drumming from Mikasa, and knew that it took years of technical honing and dedicated practice. Not only was Eren in newfound awe of Levi’s raw skill as a musician, but _damn_ if the drummer didn’t look hot as fuck while playing. He was hunched forward; head hung low and inky black hair fallen before his eyes, with his legs wide apart on either side of the snare drum. It looked like his hands and feet were acting completely independently of each other, every movement so precise yet so fluid at the same time. Something about seeing Levi’s mastery of this art so foreign to Eren was setting off tiny fireworks in the bassist’s stomach. _God. Fuck. Shit. Fuck._ He practically chugged his beer.

Hanji was facing forward again, ripping out jarring chord progressions from behind the wall of her synths. She stomped on a pedal that reverberated her guitar tone to echo in on itself and gradually dissolve into an oscillation of feedback. As the guitar degenerated the frontwoman went at it again with the synths, shifting chords and adding layers and melodies. Eren started to single out specific riffs from the cloud of sound that gradually faded in and out of recognition, all while still contributing as a whole. Levi was shredding on the kit and adding a stark dynamic contrast of acoustic over digital. The song was walking the thin line between dissonance and melody, and the audience was _hooked._

A mosh pit was forming behind Eren as people started launching themselves at each other in the crowd. The collisions set off a chain reaction of bodies playing human bumper cars while the song only got louder and more intense. Eren chucked his empty cup, got a running start, and charged full force at Mikasa. He crashed into her shoulder, sending her back a step, and then braced himself as she smiled wickedly and rocketed right back at him. Eren grinned. Mikasa always met him blow-for-blow in the pit. The force of impact sent them both ricocheting into other people, and soon Eren was in the thick of it. He kept his stance low, elbows bent for defense, and let all his worries be pummeled away by the heavy blows of bodies hitting bodies. There was something so raw and primal about moshing that it felt cleansing, like the brute force connection with other humans knocked all the thoughts from his mind, leaving nothing but the music and the sweat and the jostling contact from all sides. He was like an atom hurtling through a vacuum, only existing to make the occasional violent connection. He would call it meditative, but Armin would only call him crazy. So he settled for cathartic.

As their first song neared its end the movements of the pit calmed down. By the time it was over, Eren had ended up front and center up against the stage, sweating and hoarsely cheering while he tried to catch his breath. Holy hell, that had been a banger, and he was sure the duo on stage had far more in store for them. Said artists exchanged a few inaudible words before Hanji started the next song with a catchy but sparse guitar riff. It began as a solitary melody with lots of space between notes, but once the looper kicked in she added more harmonizing parts and looped those as well, until she had created a full sound with the overlapping repetitions. Then moving on to the synthesizers, Hanji introduced a syncopating, overlying melody that the instrument produced with a gritty and industrial-sounding tone. The tune of this part caught Eren off guard; it was a completely different musical feel from the background that had been built up with the guitar, but it strangely worked. The song had turned on its head, forcing him to listen to it and consider all the overlapping pieces in completely different ways. Eren now understood what Hanji had been talking about earlier with her offbeat philosophies of music, and saw how she incorporated those ideas into her art.

The synth part continued, and Levi struck out a crisp fill before coming in with the drums. This song’s percussion was much more tame, with solid beats on the two and the four, but even without a grand display of drumming technique his prowess was still clear. The driving impacts were perfectly in tempo, and now that Eren was actually paying attention to the drumming he noticed Levi sneaking in little accents and ghost notes in just the right places. It added a dynamic quality to the song, gave it depth and contrast. His body language was incredibly relaxed but his hits were perfectly calculated, languid and controlled at the same time. It conjured images of a striking viper, his fangs drumsticks cracking against the rough head of the snare.

Eren was enjoying the secrecy that the low lights provided for him to study the drummer. It was only fair, since Levi’s eyes had been practically glued on him for Humanity’s entire set. That fact was one big puzzle to Eren. He couldn’t imagine any reason for the man to have been so interested in their set, much less in him. Maybe he had some niche interest in the intricacies of hardcore punk bass. Yeah, right. If there was at least one thing Eren could be certain of, it was that there was no hope in ignoring his curiosity. Knowing himself, the questions their interactions left him with would keep him up at night, where he would replay and overanalyze his own words until they drove him up the wall. His insomnia was already bad enough as it was.

So lost in thought, Eren was jolted back to attention when Hanji’s vocals came growling in to the song. He saw that she was using a vocoder, so her voice was channeled through the synthesizer to come out sounded distorted and robotically psychedelic. The effect modulated her voice so much that he couldn’t decipher any of the lyrics, but she was singing with such conviction that it heightened the music regardless. Being far less heavy than the last track, this song didn’t elicit any moshing in the audience, so Eren bobbed his head in time and scanned the crowd for his bandmates. Armin’s blond mop of hair was easy to spot under the blue and purple lights, and Eren made a beeline for his best friend to the side of the stage. The music pounded in on him from all sides as he pushed his way through sweaty bodies, sneakers slightly clinging to the floor that was sticky with spilled beer. He loosed a steady stream of “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s” in an attempt to be as polite as possible while forcing himself in between groups and couples, until one immovable figure blocked his path.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me,” Eren murmured, and tried to shoulder past, but the bulky blond man remained facing away from him, unmoved. He tried again, a little louder, until the figure turned his head and Eren’s stomach dropped through the floor. It was the lead guitarist from The Titans, the very same who had been shooting discreet glares as Eren for the last hour and a half. The bassist hadn’t paid it any mind since he was trying his best not to start any fights tonight. Both musicians’ eyes narrowed at the other.

“Hey.” The blond said.

“I’m just trying to get by.” Eren was not about to start a conversation with this guy.

“Sure. Good set, by the way,” The bastard looked like he was in a perpetually bad mood, and Eren didn’t believe his words for a second.

“Yeah, you too,” he ground out as he slipped by with some difficulty.

“Reiner, what’s—oh,” On the other side of him was the bassist who Eren had overheard in the greenroom. She looked him up and down with the ghost of a smirk, one of her arms wrapped around the tiny blond girl who Eren had seen at the head of the crowd during their show. “Better let him by, baby, or he might yell at us,” she laughed at her own backhanded comment as Eren scooted past. His ears burned and he gritted his teeth against his irritation, but forced himself to pass her and the rest of the band without incident.

Once reunited with Armin, Eren took comfort in his ability to shamelessly vent to his best friend. They spent the remainder of Wings of Freedom’s set together by the side of the stage, engaging in the mosh pit when it reached them, but mostly just standing, enthralled by the twisted avant-garde nature of Hanji and Levi’s music. By the end of the show Eren was thoroughly infatuated with their art and the way they made it, and he was fairly sure that images of Levi drumming were burned into the backs of his eyelids. The last song that the duo played was as intense as any hardcore that Eren had ever seen, and it ended with all the parts slowly becoming so disjointed that the music dissolved into a muddy storm of sounds, clicks and buzzes and screeches and low, long waves, until Levi rolled out a complicated fill and it all ended abruptly with his crashing of the cymbals. The crowd exploded. Eren felt his cheering pull raw at the back of his throat, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Theirs was the best performance he had seen in a long time, even at The Wall. Hanji looked completely wrung out but wholly elated when she spoke her parting words into the mic, and then seemingly all too easily their show was over, the house lights were back up, and reggae was pushing its way through the PA speakers yet again. Eren felt like he had just gotten off a roller coaster. His neck hurt from head banging and his legs hurt from moshing, and he wouldn’t have traded the feeling for anything.

Now that all three bands had played it was an easy and familiar drill: Eren walked around the block through the biting fall air to his car, and pulled the Chevy up to the loading doors. It seemed impossible that they had unloaded their gear from that very spot only a few hours ago. Armin and Mikasa were ready and waiting with their equipment, and started packing up while Eren went back inside to get paid.

By the couches in the bustling backroom stood the owner of The Wall, a man who Eren hadn’t seen all night except for when he had briefly issued orders by the soundboard. He was tall, at least six feet, with shining blond hair and a dark undercut the same color as his prominent eyebrows. Catching sight of Eren, he ushered the bassist over.

“You’re Eren, right? I introduced myself to your bandmates just a minute ago. I’m Erwin Smith, the owner of this fine establishment. And before anything, I just want to say that you guys played an amazing show tonight! I was seriously impressed,” His voice had a low and pleasant timbre which, though genuine, still flustered Eren with its spoken praise. He was bad at taking compliments.

“Well shit, thank you so much, uh… Mr. Smith,” the younger man was completely unsure how to address Erwin. The highest authority he had interacted with at shows before was whoever’s basement he happened to be playing in. To his relief, though, Erwin laughed. It was a hearty, melodic sound.

“God, please, call me Erwin. I hope I’m not _that_ old yet. And you’re quite welcome. I hope to have you back to play here sometime soon, but for now, here’s Humanity’s cut from tonight.” He handed Eren an envelope full of cash. The bassist felt lightheaded, and decided he would count it later. He already knew this would be the most they had ever been paid for a show. And the guy said he wanted them _back?_ It was almost too good to be true. Eren gave a shy smile.

“Thank you, man, seriously. This night has just been crazy. I mean, I’ve been coming to shows here for years, so to actually play here was just insane. And we would so love to come back. Seriously, just whenever.” Was he being too casual? Too forward? Eren had absolutely no precedent for this interaction, so he hoped that at least he wasn’t blowing all chances at a future of playing at The Wall. He couldn’t help but show his adoration for the place after everything it had done for him, completely changing his life and helping him find some direction through music. Without the scene and the community that revolved around the long-standing venue he would surely have ended up in juvie or worse by now. Erwin just smiled widely down at him.

“I’m really happy to hear that. And I will see what I can do about getting you guys back here to play; speaking of which,” Eren followed Erwin’s gaze over his shoulder to see Armin and Mikasa shuttling another round of gear, “I should probably let you get to it.”

“Yeah, uh, just let us know! And thank you again. Really.” Eren smiled at the owner, a little less shy in the face of his calm and friendly demeanor.

With that, he moved to their pile of equipment and hauled up his bass amp to bring it out to the car along with the bass slung across his back. Armin and Mikasa were on their way back in when he passed them in the hallway, and parked outside next to his SUV was an old burgundy Ford Explorer with the tailgate open. Shit, Eren had thought his car was a piece of junk, but the large trunk of the Ford was scattered with wires and cords, strange instrument parts and mismatched pieces of audio equipment. The only thing arranged in any order was the incomplete drum set that had been carefully compartmentalized against the backs of the seats. Eren shrugged and slid his bass in the back of his own SUV carefully, then heaved his massive amplifier from the pavement and guided it into the trunk. He turned to go back inside, but jolted and froze in his tracks when he noticed Levi leaning against the other car watching him. He seemed to have a knack for appearing out of nowhere to put Eren on the spot. The bassist reached up to pull the hatchback trunk closed, then turned to Levi.

“That your car?”

The drummer scoffed. “Fuck no, it’s Hanji’s. You couldn’t catch me dead with that mess back there.” He jerked his chin to indicate the trunk of the Explorer behind him.

“Oh. I didn’t really notice it, I guess…”

“I appreciate the lie, saves me some embarrassment on her behalf.”

“You guys played a fucking awesome show,” The words quickly spilled out of Eren before he lost the chance to say them. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard music like that before, to be honest. At least not live.”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly with apparent surprise. “Hmm, thanks. I’m glad it didn’t scare you away.”

Eren’s heart skidded over the wet pavement of those words. “It usually takes a lot more to scare me.” He watched Levi’s nostrils flare as the man tore into him with his grey eyes.

“I bet. You’re tougher than you look.” He paused to leave the tension from those words palpable in the air. Eren’s mind was racing almost as fast as his pulse, just being in Levi’s presence. He had to say something.

“Uh, how long have you been playing the drums?” There, a low ball. Easy stuff.

“Ten years. How long have you been playing the bass?”

“Fuck, hah, only two. But, you know, I’m getting there. Or trying, at least.”

“Trust me, you’re there. Wouldn’t be playing here otherwise.” Levi looked as indifferent as ever, but there was a subtle fierceness behind his words that couldn’t quite be hidden, and Eren blinked at his conviction.

“Shit, thanks. You play here pretty regularly, right?”

Levi nodded and hummed a quiet affirmation. “Erwin and I go back. We used to play together, years ago, before I knew Hanji. We were actually a three-piece for a while, but then he started focusing full time on this place so we dropped off. Old bastard still books us, god only knows why,” he said on a sigh, closing his eyes in a mixture of frustration and amusement. Eren could have laughed if he wasn’t so close to crawling out of his skin while trying to play it cool.

“You like playing with Hanji though,” Eren prompted. Eyes still closed, a small smile twitched to life on Levi’s face. Eren wanted to melt down through the asphalt and evaporate; the man was so damn gorgeous.

“She’s like a mad fucking scientist, that one, but she knows how to make music. I’ve played with worse.” He opened his eyes to fix Eren with his grey stare once again. “And you? Is Humanity where you really want to be?”

“Fuck yes,” Eren let out a puff of air he hadn’t realized he was holding, “Armin and Mikasa and I have known each other since we were kids, so we just _work_ together, you know? And I’m making the music that I want to be. I’d probably be fucked without this band honestly,” he finished without thinking. He realized his mistake when Levi raised his eyebrows.

“How’s that?”

“Uh—“ Eren’s mind went blank, and just as he was trying to figure out how to avoid telling Levi about his colorful history of anger issues, his two bandmates spilled out into the alley laughing and dressed to depart. Eren breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he said absently as he made his way to the driver’s side door.

“Well, then I’ll hold you to that.” Levi said simply. Eren’s head jerked around to meet his blazing eyes. “I hope to see you around, Eren.”

His name on Levi’s lips was long rolling thunder, the burning kick of whiskey, a cold caress in the dark. Eren’s eyes were glued to the man as he pushed away from the car and walked back into The Wall, and Armin and Mikasa loaded themselves in the Chevy, still chatting.

He needed to hear it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but you guys are in for a burn so slow that even I am getting impatient. I know this one night went on for 12k words but the pacing will pick up from here I promise. Anyway, here are some more gifts for you!
> 
> I made playlists for what Humanity and Wings of Freedom sound like to me! [Here's the one for Humanity,](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/77c7ZyDOwj2cEdsFuJzbuj?si=lgOGwWmISGm1FTEbA3yl5g) [and here's the one for Wings of Freedom.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3atWVjQyXusPDclGTsTHnO?si=N5yFMl8EQ9yM-DI9dc4Cjw) In the Humanity playlist, the Limp Wrist songs are the closest to my imagination of what they actually sound like, but there's also a few songs in there that are kind of just their vibe and not exactly what they sound like. For the Wings of Freedom playlist, the Hella songs are how I imagine Levi's drumming, the Tobacco songs have Hanji's synth tones and vocoder, and the Octopus Project songs are kind of how I picture their vibe but maybe more unhinged... for that one you really should listen to a lot of the playlist to get the idea. Or don't! You can make it all up in your head. I'm not the boss of you. 
> 
> Also, [this](https://www.vehiclehistory.com/evox_color_compressed/chevrolet/blazer/2005/2909/chevrolet-blazer-2005-001-2909-11U-768.jpg) is what Eren's car looks like, and [this](https://s.aolcdn.com/commerce/autodata/images/CAB00FOS102B0101.jpg) is what Hanji's car looks like. I have a thing for shitty old beaters. And shitty things in general! <3 Hope yall enjoyed, I will try to post the next chapter within a couple weeks!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments if you like this... because I do it all for the fans. I will continue to update. There is so much more to come.


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